


Our paths must part. For good.

by judelaw



Category: Thronebreaker: The Witcher Tales (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Reynard and Meve deserve the best, Torture, depiction of violence isn't too graphic - just using the warning to be safe, just as Gascon and Isbel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28224726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judelaw/pseuds/judelaw
Summary: “Let him speak,” demanded the queen, not looking away from her former subordinate. “You better have a damn good reason to return after I banished you. At night even!”“Reynard,” Gascon exhaled, still visibly exhausted and Meve realized he must have been running for quite some time, not just through their camp. “Reynard, he-”It cost Meve more energy and discipline to stay silent and wait for a further explanation than she cared to admit.“He was taken.”
Relationships: Meve/Reynard Odo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Our paths must part. For good.

**Author's Note:**

> The story is based on the choice of sending both Reynard and Gascon away (though it features lines from other options as well). Our poor boys.  
> Also I played the game in my native tongue so I apologize for not getting the language authentic enough as I'm not used to archiatric English (yet - maybe I will be once I write more fics >:))  
> Also also if you want to talk about Thronebreaker feel free to message me on Tumblr (@reynardodo). Please do it, I don't have any thronebreaker friends lmao.

“ _Reynard... I beg you. Say it's not so. Tell me it's a filthy lie.”  
  
_

“ _I... I... Your Grace, I'd hoped His Highness and you would reconcile... To see son stand against mother rent my heart. I... I... wished to help.”  
  
_

“ _Behind my back...”  
  
_

“ _Your Majesty, I sought merely to push th' youth to see reason! To open his eyes!”  
  
_

“ _So say you now... Yet I can't know what was in the letters, I can't know what pacts you made. And, alas, I can no longer take you at your word. Gascon plotting, scheming behind my back - I might've expected! But you, Reynard?”  
  
_

“ _Majesty... 'twas well-intentioned... Bah - done in the best of faith. I beg you, one chance to-”  
  
_

“ _No. Our paths must part, Reynard. Now, here, for good._

_Out of my sight! Both of you!”_

—

Grumbling out of sheer frustration Meve rolled over to the other side of her rather  provisional and uncomfortable bed. Falling asleep had been proven rather difficult the past couple of nights despite the exhaustion of spending endless hours on her mount. Not being able to get her well-deserved rest for days was enough reason for exasperation, however, the actual  _cause_ of her misfortune was what troubling her that much.  
  


Not the loss of her crown and kingdom kept her up at night, though both still weighted heavily on her, it was the loss of her two most trusted advisors, one of which also happened to be her oldest friend. Or so she thought as this friendship hadn't been enough for him to reconsider commiting treason.  
  


_'twas well-intentioned  
  
_

_done in the best of faith  
  
_

Pulling the pillow over her face in fear she might scream and cause unnecessary attention, Meve closed her eyes, trying to calm her breath.  
  


Had she made the right decision?  
  


Had both Gascon and Reynard actually spoken the truth?  
  


But how could she trust either word after what they had done?  
  


And what use is it to think about this at all?

  
She had already made her decision, she had send them both away. Thinking about the what-ifs and might-have-beens does no good. It's only ruining her nights - and perhaps even her life.

  
Yet still, she couldn't help but to think about it. She desperately wanted to be wrong, at the very least in the case of her knight.  
  


_I beg you, one chance to-  
  
_

Perhaps she should have given him the chance to prove himself, to redeem himself.  
  


No, no.  
  


One heart break was enough, feeling the stinging pain of betrayal from the person she trusted more than anyone else in the world once, was more than enough. She couldn't handle this kind of pain a second time. Couldn't handle the risk.  
  


No, she had made the right decision. She had to wage a war, had a kingdom and future to look forward to. There was no time for living in the past and regretting the most recent events.  
  


However, it was hard imaging a future where she's ruling over Lyria and Rivia again without knowing Reynard was right next to her, supporting her through it all.  
  


A commotion outside tore her from her thoughts and heart-ache and under different circumstances she might had been alarmed - or annoyed at the very least - about the disturbance at such a late hour. But right now it was a more than welcomed distraction.  
  


Meve hadn't quite reached the entrance of her tent yet as someone rushed inside, followed by a handful of guards.  
  


“Apologies, Your Majesty, he rushed right through-”  
  


Interrupted by the exclamation of her name from their intruder, the guard couldn't finish their sentence.  
  


“Meve!” cried the man again and despite the only faint light of the candles, she immediately recognized it was Gascon right in front of her, desperately gasping for air. “Meve!”  
  


Without waiting for an explicit order, two of the guards lunged forward to capture the Duke of Dogs, intending to drag him outside. A small gesture, the lifting of a hand, however, stopped them right in their tracks.  
  


“Let him speak,” demanded the queen, not looking away from her former subordinate. “You better have a damn good reason to return after I banished you. At night even!”  
  


“Reynard,” Gascon exhaled, still visibly exhausted and Meve realized he must have been running for quite some time, not just through their camp. “Reynard, he-”  
  


It cost Meve more energy and discipline to stay silent and wait for a further explanation than she cared to admit.  
  


“He was taken,” he explained, breathing finally returning to its normal state. “Don't know who just-”  
  


“Where is he?” _To hell with patience and discipline.  
  
_

“Don't know-”  
  


“Gascon!”  
  


“'tis the truth, Meve! We were travelling together, right behind you admittedly, though staying far enough away to stay unnoticed. Our camp's not far from here. Reynard took the first shift, watching carefully over our belongings while I slept. Then a scream, several people, soldiers - I think, one hit me on the head, knocking me unconscious. When I woke up they were gone, _he_ was gone.”  
  


“When did this happen?”  
  


“This evenin'.”  
  


Her heart sank. Even worse now than it did before.  
  


Meve ran her fingers through her hair. Obviously neither Gascon nor Reynard and their safety were her responsibility anymore, they had ruined this luxury themselves. Yet she couldn't leave Reynard to his fate.  
  


Especially as she suspected his captivity was her fault.  
  


Reynard being her right hand and knowing all of their strategies and plans was a well-known fact and made him very attractive to anyone who might want to receive this knowledge and contribute to her down-fall.  
  


She was scared. Terrified even.  
  


And didn't even bother to lie to herself and say she wasn't.  
  


This fear was so overbearing, it almost paralysed her.  
  


And suddenly, despite all her sleepless nights, despite everything that has happened, she realized she trusted him.  
  


She wasn't afraid he'd provide the enemy with their desired needs, she knew he would never, not even under torture. And _that_ scared her.  
  


Reynard wouldn't give in, no matter what they did to him, and they wouldn't stop until they got what they wanted or he died. The later being the only outcome she could imagine.  
  


“Meve,” Gascon appealed. “I know you are angry, rightfully so, but I also know how much he means to you. Too much for you to not intervene, to not save him. 's why I'm here.”  
  


_Our paths must part, Reynard.  
  
_

Not losing any time, the queen ordered for scouts, as many as they could spare, to be send into every possible direction.  
  


_Now, here,  
  
_

They just had to find him.  
  


_for good.  
  
_

They had to.

—

Meve didn't care about the thorny branches tearing her clothes every step she took. Just as she didn't care about the leaves hitting her face, blurring her vision, or the mud sticking to her boots, impairing her movement.  
  


It had taken too long, way too long, for the scouts to report back. For the news to finally arrive.  
  


Four days of stagnancy, four days of trying to find the Nilfgaardian's hideout, to pinpoint Reynard's position.  
  


Four days of seemingly endless despair.  
  


And now there wasn't any time to lose.  
  


Her soldiers, the group she had taken with her, had trouble following her, staying on her pace. Only Gascon was directly behind her, caring as little about the surrounding circumstances as she did.  
  


According to the latest reports Reynard was still alive and Meve planned to keep it that way.  
  


Had she found the last four days to be unusually long, the hours it took to get to her knight seemed to pass even slower than all those days combined.  
  


Every step seemed to take an eternity and every breath felt like it wouldn't be enough to carry her all the way to her Reynard.  
  


_Her_ Reynard.  
  


Kicking the door in, the soldiers fought their way through the building, with their queen leading them. The Nilfgaardians, completely overwhelmed by the attack, where quick to lay down their weapons and run away, as fast as they could. And if Meve's mind wasn't too occupied with worry and fear, she wouldn't have let them.  
  


Right now, however, everything she could think of, everything she could focus on and everything that mattered was finding Reynard.  
  


“Your Grace!” one of her men cried out, enough reason for the queen to run directly into the room they had just entered. He didn't have to finish his sentence for her to know they had finally found him.  
  


_She_ found him.  
  


Meve didn't know what exactly she had expected and what she saw shouldn't have shocked her as much as it did, considering all the horrible images that had come to her mind the past four days, yet she still had to suppress a cry.  
  


His hands tied above his head, had him hanging from the ceiling, barely giving him the chance stand properly with both his feet on the ground. For a moment she didn't know if he was conscious, if he was alive even but then Reynard slowly – as fast as he managed to – raised his head.  
  


“Y-Your Grace...” he stuttered, his voice broken and dry.  
  


Rushing to his side, Meve dropped her sword, doing her best to support his body as one of her men started to untie the ropes around his wrists, fearing that cutting them at once wouldn't give him enough time to brace himself against a fall.  
  


He was wearing nothing but his trousers and even though he couldn't have possibly lost _that_ much weight in just four days, he seemed significantly thinner than before. Not just due to the lack of amour.  
  


Meve tried but she couldn't even recall the last time she had seen him without it.  
  


Their days at the court now seemed entire lifetimes away.  
  


As if he was reading her thoughts, Reynard muttered: “Apologies for th' lack of proper attire- uh-”  
  


He tried his best to stand on his own feet as the ties were loosened yet was too weak to do so, causing him to fall right into her arms which thankfully hadn't caught her off guard.  
  


Not only did he look thinner, he was also injured. It was hard to make out where exactly, as blood and dirt seemed to cover his entire torso, face, arms, hands and even feet, but judging by the amount of blood alone, she knew it had to be bad.  
  


Reynard tried his best to immediately lift himself up again.  
  


“I... I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I-”  
  


“Oh, Reynard...”  
  


Only Reynard, **her** Reynard, would bother about etiquette in such a dire situation.  
  


Gently she held him, careful to not touch any injuries – as far as that was possible.  
  


“Hush, everything'll be alright. Rest now, Reynard. It will be fine.”  
  


Reynard wasn't sure if he had died, if the afterlife granted him his wish to see his queen again. Or if that somehow was just some cruel trick by the Nilfgaardians, magic perhaps, to make him speak.  
  


But it felt real to lie in her arms.  
  


And good.  
  


So he didn't bother to think too much about it.  
  


Holding him she could make out some of the wounds. His entire back was covered with cuts and bruises, these bastards had obviously whipped him. There also was a nasty, long single cut on his lower arm, the cause of which she was uncertain about – and she wasn't quite sure if she even wanted to know.  
  


“Where's Isbel?” Meve yelled just as the witch was about to enter the room.  
  


“Here, Your Majesty.”  
  


Isbel kneeled down next to them, carefully inspecting the wounds.  
  


“We need to take him back to the camp, immediately.”  
  


Meve barely managed to let go of him, how could she now that she finally had him back, but she had to leave him in Isbel's more than capable hands. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she stood in Isbel's way and caused any more suffering to Reynard.

—

  
“How's he?”  
  


Gascon had stayed back the entire time, watching from a distance as he didn't want to interrupt the rather painful reunion – and what good could he have done anyway? But seeing Meve on her way to the aid tent, he couldn't help but to ask.  
  


“I don't know,” Meve sighed. She had tried to distract herself the past couple of hours, to lean over the new plans with her advisors while Isbel was taking care of Reynard. But her thoughts were all over the place. “Do you think he-”  
  


“We found him in time and have Isbel,” Gascon reassured her, without being sure himself. “It'll be alright.”  
  


He put his hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed it. Gascon hadn't redeemed himself yet and she was still mad and hurt about betrayal, yet right now all she felt was gratitude for his words and existence.  
  


“I don't know what I'd do if he-”  
  


She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence, and could barely manage to hold onto her tears. It felt like all the weight of the past week was slowly crushing down on her.  
  


But she had to stay strong.  
  


At least for now.  
  


For Reynard.  
  


Gascon was just about to say another reassuring thing or perhaps make a joke to hopefully cheer her up, as Isbel left the first aid tent, looking through the crowd to find her queen.  
  


Wordlessly she walked over to her.  
  


“He's still very weak and will need some time to recover fully. But he'll survive.”  
  


Meve finally felt like she could breathe again.  
  


“Can I see him? Does he need rest?”  
  


“Oh, he certainly needs rest,” the witch nodded. “But most importantly he needs you.”  
  


That was enough of a permission for her to enter the tent as Isbel went over to the eagerly waiting Gascon to inform him about Reynard's condition.  
  


“Your Grace!” Reynard, lying on the bed, covered in bandages, instantly tried to get up as he saw his queen entering. But Meve made sure to put an end to it.  
  


“Lean back.”  
  


It wasn't an order per se but her knight knew she wouldn't accept an objection so he did as he was told.  
  


And winced as the pillow made contact with his back.  
  


Immediately Meve recalled all the wounds on his back and regretted her choice of words.  
  


“Goddess, I'm sorry, Reynard!” she awkwardly held her hands out as if she could do anything about his current situation, as if she could ease the pain. “I forgot! You should have said something.”  
  


“I'm not questioning my orders, Your Majesty.”  
  


“Yet you failed to _follow_ my order to leave for good. Gascon told me about your travelling route that coincidentally lined up with ours.”  
  


It was more light-hearted teasing – as seeing him in such a state overwhelmed her - and Meve had hoped her smile would give that much away, but Reynard only looked away in embarrassment.  
  


“M- My apologies, Your Grace... I... I've never disobeyed your orders, you know this well. I've ever been loyal as a hound.”  
  


His voice was stronger now, whether due to Isbel's doing or the water he drank, she couldn't tell.  
  


Reynard, still looking away in shame, hold onto the blanket that was covering half of his body.  
  


“Loyalty meant I could not obey this time. I had to prove that though I'd erred, you could still trust me. Though I surely hoped our reunion would have been… different.”  
  


He squeezed his eyes shut.  
  


“A fool I was, not to realize th' danger we had been in. A great general I am... was...”  
  


Meve could see his knuckles turning white as he applied more pressure to the fabric.  
  


“I'm sorry, Your Grace, for all th' time and resources wasted in my rescue. If I can repay you back somehow-”  
  


“You can get well again.” Meve suggested. “Though nothing was wasted.”  
  


“I will heal as fast as possible, Your Grace, to leave again as I know you do not wish to see me.”  
  


She pulled a near-by stool over to sit down next to him.  
  


“Reynard,” gently she took his hands and entangled his fingers from the bedsheets. “None of this was your fault. And I do not wish you to leave again.”  
  


Surprised he lifted his head, looking her into the eyes .  
  


“Your Majesty?”  
  


“How could I not, after everything you've been through, because of me.”  
  


“Y-You... Your Grace, I assure you nothing of this had to do with you. Let alone are you to blame.”  
  


“So you weren't captured because the Nilfgaardians desired more knowledge about me?”  
  


“Well, uh, yes, though that's hardly your fault. The blame isn't yours to take.”  
  


“Then neither it is yours.”  
  


Reynard just now seemed to realize she was still holding his hands, hesitated, thinking about whether he dared to withdrew it – if he wanted to at all – and what was the proper reaction. He blushed before returning to his usual, stern expression.  
  


“Majesty, I do not... wish to regain my position out of pity. I do not deserve your trust.”  
  


“So you gave in and told Nilfgaard about our plans?”  
  


He seemed insulted by the question.  
  


“Of course not, Your Grace, I would never-”  
  


“Then how come you do not deserve my trust? How is your willingness to die for me not enough?”  
  


Reynard was quiet for a moment and Meve thought he would reconsider but she didn't seemed to have succeeded in changing his mind.

“I know I am not in th' position to ask for anything but if you were to give me a proper chance to prove myself, I'd gladly take it.”  
  


“And what kind of chance would that be?” Meve asked amused. Despite the seriousness of the conversation it wasn't lost on her on her that earlier her knight had blushed due to their fingers intertwining.  
  


He visibly became nervous again.

“I... I... I hadn't had the chance to think about one yet. But rest assured I'd do whatever you desire. And if it takes decades for you to trust me again.”  
  


“Haven't you always done everything I desired?” Meve smiled.  
  


“Yes, Your Grace... A-Apart from never crossing your path again.”  
  


“That was an order, Reynard,” the queen reminded him. “Not a desire.”  
  


“Not a...”  
  


Confused he quietly tried to figure out the distinction between the two as Meve let go of his hands to stand up and turn away from him.  
  


He knows it was just his imagination but somehow he suddenly felt much worse now that he couldn't feel her warmth anymore. Fearing she'd leave him again, which he deserved yet not desired, he thought about something to say, something that perhaps would make her stay, hear him out, however, Meve spoke up first.  
  


“You hurt me, Reynard, wounded me to the bloody core.”  
  


These words alone pained him enough to make his wounds seem rather unremarkable. He truly had only wished to help, to see his queen happy again, reunited with her son – and possibly kingdom. Yet all he had done was hurt her. He hadn't intended to betray her but whether or not the intention was there, he had. And now had to deal with the consequences.  
  


At that time, being send away had felt like the worst kind of pain he ever had to endure. But to now hear her speak those words, to hear how deeply he had wounded her, was the worst agony he could possibly imagine.  
  


He could live with the torture by the Nilfgaardians.  
  


Could live with Meve's punishment.  
  


Could live with the disgrace of having to leave the army.  
  


Could live with the knowledge he'd never see her again – it'd hurt but he'd manage.  
  


What he couldn't live with, however, was her pain.  
  


“Your Grace, I... I know it does not ease your pain but I just want to reassure you I never intended to... hurt you. Rather would I die. I did, however, and I... I accept the consequences of my actions. It was wrong of me to follow you, I know that. And I cannot ask for forgiveness. I know you won't take my word for it but if you were to send me away again, I would stay away. Forever.”  
  


Reynard couldn't see her face so it took him a while and a faint weep to realize his queen was crying.  
  


“Majesty, I... I'm so sorry for everything I've done, if there was a way to put an end to your suffering, I would- If there is a way, please, please tell me... I'd- I'd do anything, I-”  
  


She hadn't intended to turn around yet until she heard a loud noise, followed by a suppressed cry. In his helpless attempt to somehow ease her pain, Reynard had tried to leave the bed, yet due to his injuries failed miserably, and only made his way to the floor.  
  


Quickly the queen rushed to his side and helped him back up again.  
  


Embarrassed and angered by his own weakness, he couldn't look at her when they managed to lift him back onto the bed, yet there was no such emotion in his voice. Only sadness.  
  


“Thank you, Your Grace. I'm sorry for only being the cause of trouble. I will leave at an instant as soon as possible.”  
  


Wiping her own tears with her sleeve away, she crouched down in front of him.  
  


“Reynard... If you truly want to take my pain away, you have to stay.”  
  


“I will work hard, Your Majesty, to-”  
  


“No, Reynard,” she took his hand again. “Just stay. That alone is enough.”  
  


“I'm afraid I don't understand...”

“I didn't... cry because of your letters to Villem or the pain they caused me. I wept because you said you'd rather die. I cannot... lose you or even stand the thought of it.”  
  


“Your Majesty, I'm terribly sorry for having said- … what?” taken aback he forgot what he had intended to say.  
  


“Your betrayal hurt but... thinking you could be dead and seeing the state you were in hurt much, much more.”

“I'm sorry, Your Grace, for causing you so much agony...”  
  


Meve rolled her eyes.  
  


“Reynard, if you apologize one more time...”  
  


“I'm so-”  
  


He immediately shut his mouth again.

“Good.”  
  


“I'm afraid I still don't understand...”  
  


“I cannot... _and don't want to_... imagine a future without you.”  
  


Reynard's eye widened.  
  


“So I'm... asking you if you want to be a part of my future.”  
  


“Y-yes, yes! Yes, I'd be honoured, I... Oh, Meve, you don't understand how happy I...”  
  


“You called me Meve.”  
  


Blushing, he hurried to correct himself with “Your M-”, however, was ultimately stopped by Meve's lips on his. For a moment he was too shocked to move but eventually returned the kiss – something Meve had been impatiently waiting for.  
  


When they finally parted, Reynard kept holding onto her hand, gently stroking the backs of her hands with his thumbs.  
  


“I like it when you say my name.”  
  


“I would have started using it sooner had I know that earlier... _Meve_.”  
  


“No, you wouldn't have, Reynard. You are to much a champion of rules and etiquette, I'm afraid.”  
  
  
“I would have had I know _this_ was the reward.”  
  
  
Meve grinned and couldn't resist giving him a kiss again. It felt good, very good, but what felt even better was knowing she wouldn't have to resist ever again.

  
And that she wouldn't have a future without Reynard.


End file.
